Without You

59. He Didn't Mean You

A/N - First off, massive apologies for the excessively long wait for an update. I've really struggled with writing these past couple of weeks, but I think I'm finally getting back into the swing of things now. I just hope that what I've written was worth waiting for! 😅 Thank you for sticking with me and this gargantuan story of mine! Hope you're all staying safe out there! ❤ -H. x

"What the hell is wrong with you?! All you care about is you – all day, every day, it's about you, you, YOU!! You never really cared about us, did you. Since the start, it was all just about you saving your career!"

"I-I-I, I didn't-, it wasn't-, that's not-!"

"Shut your mouth, you stupid idiot! I've had it up to here with you! You let me go through hell for years 'cause you were fixated on the bloody career instead of getting me help, and then what happens when it all goes to s***?? You swan off on your own and take what we built all for yourself and-"

"I never wanted any of this! All I care about is you! It's-"

"Shut up!!! You don't f***ing care – you never did! Grow up, Declan. I've got nowt more to say to youse."

"Ant, please-!" Dec grabbed onto Ant, his grip so tight his knuckles turned white.

"Get off me, ya ba*****!" Ant viciously threw Dec off of him, sending him crashing to the ground and following it up with a sharp, swift kick to the ribs before walking away without another glance as Dec let out a pained groan mixed with a sob.

And then everything went black...

A harsh, pained gasp sounded through the darkness as Dec's eyes fluttered open and his hand flew to his aching side, cradling it gently. Completely disorientated, Dec's hazy mind took in his surroundings. He wasn't where he'd been just moments before...Or was he?

Wait, what was that odd red light shining in the midst of the darkness? And...And why was he lying on a soft bed, wrapped up in a duvet? Had someone found him and taken him home??

The feeling of disorientation lasted less than a minute before Dec's eyes wandered over to the side and found the sleeping face of his wife mere inches away, her blonde hair cascading over her pretty features. And across from her was the digital clock, its bright display gleaming in the dark: 12:07am.

As the last cobwebs in his mind were brushed away, the realization hit him that what he'd just experienced was, in fact, a nightmare rather than real life, leaving him nearly sobbing with relief. Nearly, but not quite. Because no sooner had the stinging pain of his dream abated, then reality set in, and with it an all-engulfing shame and a crushing weight bearing down on him.

A devastating sigh was stifled in his pillow as he flopped over onto his stomach, finding it too uncomfortable to lie on his side. There were too many emotions swirling inside of him right now and he didn't really want to face any of them.

He felt intensely guilty over his actions only a few hours earlier. He had seen the hurt and disappointment in Ali's eyes when he'd grumpily told her off and went straight up to bed. And that guilt was only compounded by what he'd done when she came to bed several hours later.

After he shut himself away in their bedroom, he'd gone to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, changed, and crawled into bed, switching on the telly and mindlessly flicking through the channels, desperate to find something, anything, to distract him from his thoughts. In the end, he'd settled for a political show – not exactly uplifting watching, but he'd hoped it would do the trick.